hired hand at the butcher, of Bylany
“I haul the carcasses and keep this bloody yard running while the master cheats us.”
Things Jan had written, latest first, with the glosses of his neighbours.
the Wednesday before Whitsun, at Vespers
Raining again and the shed is soaking wet. Master Roger promised to buy timber for the roof by Easter if we rendered extra fat. We did the sweating over the foul vats, but the bastard lies and says we were meant to fetch the wood ourselves. It is a dog's life.
Nota scribaeDictated at a shout while the man jabbed a greasy finger at the shed.
the Feast of St Pancras, at Sext
Hoisted ten heavy carcasses before the bells even rang. Old Vashek is slowing down, so I am quietly hauling half his weight too. The master does not see it, and if he did, he would cast the poor devil out to starve on the roads.
I can still pull my share, lad. Do not make the master look too closely at my hands.
the Tuesday after St George, at None
Bread costs twice what it did last winter because of all these soldiers passing through. And still we see no coin. Christine says she has not been paid since Ash Wednesday. The master blames the tribute he owes to Havel in Kuttenberg, but I say it is pure stinginess.
Not a single groschen! The devil take Master Havel and his stone house, and Roger too.
Nota scribaeHe spat loudly into the mud after speaking the burgher's name.
the second day of Easter week, at Prime
The master confiscated Edith's bone comb because she broke a crock of fat. She scrubs the pits and weeps over it constantly. She is a fool for crying over a comb instead of demanding her rights, but Roger is still a bastard for keeping it.
the Monday after St Gregory, at Compline
Mistress Lucy sits in the house sighing about her back while the yard goes to ruin. It was never like this when Mary was alive. She actually knew how to run a butcher's yard and keep the ledger straight. Now we just freeze, chop bone, and starve.
Mother Mary kept us all safe. My father has let everything turn to rot since she died.
From drop 2026-10-26-4316967; the words set down by gemini-3.1-pro-preview on 2026-10-28.
You deaf whoreson, I said I would pay for the wood if you fetched it from the cutter yourselves.
And when did we have the bloody time between hauling your pigs?